Scars Unseen
by RadicalRae
Summary: Death the Kid has reoccurring nightmares, Lord Death can't be trusted to take care of himself, and Soul and Spirit can't help but worry. Stein is just confused.
1. Morning

**I do not own Soul Eater. Set in the anime verse, sometime around Asura's escape from Death City.**

 **Pairings: Soul x Kid, Death x Spirit, one-sided Maka x Black*Star, and slight Justin x Giriko**

 **Warning** : **Graphic nightmares ahead.**

 _It was dark. The walls felt wet, and his hands came away red. His feet hit the slippery stone floor and he slipped, resulting in a burst of maniacal laughter from behind him. Rats and snakes and spiders crawled and slithered over his hands, and he wanted to scream but scarves wrapped around his mouth and muffled all sound. He clawed desperately at the obstacle cutting off his frantic breathing, his eyes rolled up, and his vision went fuzzy, a voice was talking and -_

Death the Kid shot up from his bed, sweat making his hair stick to his skin. His heart hammered in his chest, and he barely noticed the fact that his fingernails had dug hard enough into the skin of his palms to create cuts that bled red. He stared, eyes not actually seeing anything, at the wall, before falling back into his pillow. After a moment of laying there, he crawled out from under the covers and tidied up his bed. He gripped the front of his sweatshirt, standing there and listening to the creak and groan of the old house. His heart continued to beat wildly, and he felt...shaky. Unstable.

Kid turned and crept out of his room, checking Liz and Patty to make sure the sisters weren't aware of his newest nightmare. Certain that his weapons were sleeping peacefully, he made his way up the stairs, wincing with each and every creak of the floorboards. Reaching the top of the landing, the young reaper stared at the double doors now in front of him; the only room on this level of the Gallows manor. His Father's room.

Taking hold of the shiny brass knobs, he pushed the doors open and stepped inside, feet immediately sinking into familiar, plush white carpets. The balcony window had been left open, and the cool night hair made him shiver, quickly crossing the room to his Father's bed, where he could vaguely see the shape of Death, chest falling and rising as he breathed steadily.

Kid crawled into the space next to his Father, glancing over to see that he'd woken the older god when he had come into the spacious room. His Father sighed moving the billowing covers over his shaking son and shifting to give him more room. Death could tell by the tears in his son's eyes that a nightmare had woken him, and he grasped the young reader's hands, warming chilled fingers as best as he could.

Kid fell asleep first, curled up next to his Father, feeling safe and protected among the white sheets and comforter.

Morning light streamed in through the window, waking Death in such a pleasant way that he was reluctant to move from his warm bed. He did so anyway, looking down to find Kid still asleep, blankets wrapped around his small form. It seemed his son had calmed down since last night, breathing now steady and heartbeat normal. Death smiled and carefully, quietly, slipped out of bed, opening drawers and his wardrobe to get ready for the day, opting to skip his usual morning shower, not quite wanting to deal with the sting of scars just yet.

He pulled on his cloak, mask in hand when he heard a yawn from behind him. He turned and gave his sleepy son a kiss on the forehead. This got him a whine and a hand swatting the old god away.

"Make the bed and then go eat something. I have a meeting today, so feel free to stay at home. I should be back soon." He walked briskly out the room before Kid could insist he eat something as well, leaving the young reaper in the room alone.

Well, he was alone before Liz and Patty barged in, jumping on the bed to try and get their meister up and awake (although he already was), Patty yelling something about pancakes and eggs.

 **I swear this has a plot, it'll unfold slowly though. :/ Please review?**


	2. Bloody Masks

**On with the story. You can obviously tell I have nothing better to do, huh?**

 **I don't own Soul Eater.**

Despite what his Father had said, Kid found himself walking to school with Liz and Patty right behind him. The sisters were discussing the pros and cons of going to school, but he couldn't bring himself to point out that it didn't really matter what they thought. School was mandatory now that he'd joined the DWMA with his two weapons. He had his thinking face on, as Patty would say.

Thoughts of his nightmare circulated in his head, and he couldn't quite get the image of a blood stained mask out of his mind.

 _Bloody hands, big and once white, an angry skull mask stained red and eyes of black. The scream of a thousand damned souls, the harsh, mocking laughter and the feel of spiders on his skin, where he couldn't see anything. Three red eyes, a terribly familiar voice and words he couldn't quite hear -_

"You ok Kid?" A hand gripped his shoulder, and the young reaper jumped turning to look at the concerned face of Maka. Behind her, Soul stared at him with the same concern in his red eyes. Kid faked a smile and nodded, certain that his voice would falter if he spoke right then. The scythe meister obviously didn't believe him, and frowned at the reaper, but let go anyway. She'd learned that it was better to let the god work things out by himself.

They continued on towards the school. Kid smiled as he heard the familiar sound of Black*Star laughing and claiming that he'd transcend the gods and become one himself. He heard Maka sigh, and glanced back at her to see the blonde shaking her head at her loud mouthed friend's antics. He wondered when Black*Star would tell her his feelings; the assassin had already confessed to him and Soul, and the scythe had approved (after threatening him with bodily harm if he hurt his meister).

He supposed it wasn't really his business. An elbow digging into his side caught his attention, and he shot a glare at a certain weapon.

"Would it kill you to keep your hands off of me?" Soul flashed the young reaper one those shark toothed grins that _never_ failed to make his knees weak. That same grin softened, and the white haired boy slowed down, so that they were behind their group of friends. Ah, there it was. The concern he'd seen beforehand.

"So, what's up? It's not cool to keep things from your friend y'know." Kid sighed, reaching down to grasp Soul's hand in his. It made him feel better to have something to anchor his thoughts in place.

"...I couldn't sleep very well. Nightmare again." He lowered his voice to a whisper, and felt the weapon squeeze his hand. For a second, one precious second, he leaned into the other boy, enjoying his warmth, the way their hands fit so well together, and then he had to pull away; none of their friends knew.

A large part of him never wanted to let go.

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Lord Death watched all of the teachers and professors leave, waving goodbye until he could no longer see them or hear them. Letting his shoulders droop beneath the cloak, he reached to pull the cloak's hood down, mask next to be pulled off. The God turned to look at his reflection, at how exhausted he looked, at how his once bright eyes were now dark and saddened.

"You look like you could use a vacation." Death turned, smiling at Spirit, who took the steps up to the platform two at a time, until he stood next to the tired God.

"I can't go on vacation even if I wanted to. You could though. Take Maka with you, invite Soul as well. Didn't she say she wanted to see the ocean?" He realized that he had to look up to see his weapon's face, and it hit him how grown up - how mature - the redhead had become since he was a teenager.

"Ahh, but if I left, who'd take care of you when you don't do it yourself?" Spirit nudged the black haired man, and held up a small bag from a cafe not too far from the school.

"It's blueberry, your favorite." Death blinked in surprise and took the muffin from the scythe, honestly startled that the man had bothered to remember his favorite kind of morning food. Even if they were a little more than meister and weapon...

"Hurry up and eat, that team we sent yesterday reached the town." Death nodded, a flush creeping up his pale face when Spirit leaned over to kiss him, softly and oh-so-sweetly.

Goddammit. He wasn't supposed to get attached to mortals.

 **I'd love it to see some reviews, even just a thumbs up or something would be great. I need feedback to make sure my writing doesn't seem too out of character. I feel like I don't write Black*Star very well.**


	3. A Different Time

**Alright, I just wanted to put a warning on this chapter because it's gonna describe past self harm. This chapter is mostly focused on Lord Death, his past, and his reasons for his constant disregard to his own health and safety...**

 **Please regard the warning, and continue at your own risk. I do not own Soul Eater.**

The bathroom was quiet, the silence only broken by the occasional splash of water, and the steady breathing of the only occupant. Steam covered the large mirror and drifted almost lazily through the air, making the room humid and very, very warm. It felt nice against cool skin. If he ignored the sting of the water going over his many scars.

Death leaned back, reddish golden eyes staring up at the ceiling, gaze tracing over the intricate pattern in the dark oak, as familiar as his own hands. He could still remember back when he was little, and his Father stood in front of that mirror and took a razor to trim the scruff he called a beard. The god smiled at the memory, at the thought of the tall, imposing man that was his Father.

 _The man, with his russet red hair and the three completed Sanzu lines, leaned in close to the gold rimmed mirror, carefully sliding the razor over his jaw to trim down the dark facial hair, his young nine year old son watching him from his seat on a stool. The child had a book in his hands, and his bright eyes didn't stray from his Father's movements._

 _"Daddy, why don't you use magic to shave?" His Father turned to look down at the young reaper, arching an eyebrow in confusion at him._

 _"Only wizards and witches have magic my dear. Plus, I think that would be waste of talent anyway." The old Death replied, voice soft but firm. He wanted to see if the child could see through his lie about not having any magic; the Death family had plenty of power to use. The child scrunched his nose up, huffing and shaking his head._

 _"I've seen you use magic before Daddy. Does that mean you're a wizard?" His Father grinned and ruffled his hair affectionately, noting that his child's hair was thick and curly like his mother's._

 _"No, I'm not a wizard my Angel. You'll understand when you're older. Why don't you go see if your mother is ready go? We have to be at the ball at exactly eight. Let the dogs out into the yard too, while you're downstairs."_

Lord Death stood in front of the mirror of the bathroom, listening to the water wash down the drain, and the pitter patter of water dripping off of his wet hair. He didn't look like his Father. His hair was jet black, with not a single touch of red in it, and his eyes were more gold than red, and he had his mother's more delicate features, and her thick hair.

And he was much shorter than the past reaper as well. Not that it wasn't a bad thing...but a short reaper just wasn't very intimidating, and he could remember those that had taken advantage of his height and almost feminine features to torment him.

 _"Hey girly!" The twelve year old Death flinched at the nickname, but otherwise didn't react to the group of mortal boys that quickly caught up with his slow pace. He only gripped his sketchbook and quill tighter in his hands, walking a bit faster and keeping his eyes trained in front of him, hoping that they'd just leave him alone._

 _The hand grabbing hold of the back of his black dress shirt killed his hopes almost immediately. He was forced to a halt, and then the boys - all older, all of them taller and stronger-looking compared to the young reaper - surrounded him, a few of them jeering insults at the young boy. He frowned at them, and then turned his head to glare over his shoulder at a boy he recognized. This one was a constant among his tormentors, and he wandered why. He didn't look like anything special, just a scrawny teenager with large teeth and ratty brown hair._

 _"Please leave me be. I can't be late, Father would be furious at me - more so at the ones that made me late." The mention of his Father had the boys sweating nervously and more than a few of them backing down. The infamous reaper had no love for humankind, and out right hated the ones that messed with his family. Even if it was fun to mess with the young reaper, his Father coming to their houses to "speak" with them wasn't worth it._

 _The boy behind him had let go to stalk in front of him, and Death had to bite his lip to keep from asking the human why his face was so uneven. There was already a glint of hatred in those bland brown eyes; he didn't want to provoke it into growing. Of course...The boy was already provoked enough to punch him, hard, in the chest._

 _He'd be late for dinner._

 _By the time he'd gotten home, it was late and his Father had been furious, voice akin to the boom of thunder and body an imposing brick wall standing in the doorway. Upon seeing the bruises on his son's face and arms, his eyes softened and he sent the young reaper to bed after gently tending to his injuries and asking for names._

Death walked out into his room, the cold breeze coming from the open windows ignored as he made his way over the dark oak dresser. He pulled out a knitted black sweater, running his fingers over the thin, even cuts on his wrists as straightened the loose sleeves. His Father never knew about the self inflicted wounds - he had always bandaged those himself, having not wanted to be the disappointment he feared he had been.

He bent over to straighten his jeans, took one last glance at the mirror, and then turned and headed downstairs towards his study, pausing to peer into the living room where Liz, Patty, and Kid were doing homework. Well, at least Kid was working. Liz was asleep and Patty was making a giraffe. He smiled, waved to Patty, and kept going to his study. A little piece of paper had been taped to the door. It looked like a note, and judging by the messy handwriting, it was from Spirit.

 _Eat something, and get some sleep, you need it. Left banana bread at your desk. :)_

Death chuckled and took the note into his study with him. The smiley face was a nice touch.


	4. Take Me Away

**Partly focused on Death, though mostly focused on Kid and his thoughts and emotions.**

 **I do not own Soul Eater.**

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It was Saturday. It was hot outside, the sun beating down on Death City without mercy. Anyone that was smart was either taking advantage of the good weather or were staying inside with air conditioning and cold drinks. Death the Kid, and his weapons, Liz and Patty, were doing the latter. It was still early though, barely ten in the morning, and Kid kept nervously checking the time. Soul had asked him to go out with him while the weather was nice, and the scythe had said he'd come by on his motorcycle around eleven.

Kid glanced at his weapons with a worried frown, hoping Soul would actually get here on time. The sisters were on the floor playing checkers, although he noted Patty wasn't playing by the rules and Liz was far too busy painting her nails to pay much attention to the game. He turned his gaze back down to his book, but ultimately unable to focus on the Egyptian glyphs and pictures of perfectly symmetrical pyramids and artifacts. He couldn't help but think about the absolutely terrifying dreams he kept having...and how his Father was in each and every one.

The sound of an engine caught his attention, and he grimaced at how loud it was. He was sure his Father would notice the sound, and got up quickly to peek into the older god's study, relieved to find him with his head buried in a book, hand gripping an ink pen tightly and occasionally scratching letters into a leather bound journal.

Certain that neither his Father or weapons would miss him, Kid grabbed the money he'd stashed away for this little date and bolted out the front door, flip flops smacking loudly against the stone path towards the gate. Soul revved the engine of his motorcycle, shifting to give Kid enough to room to slide on behind him before they were shooting off down the road. The young reaper held on tight to the other boy, pressing his face into his neck so that Soul could feel his smile (since he couldn't really see it while keeping the bike on the road).

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It didn't take long for them to reach the shopping district of Death City, the streets nearly bare of any other vehicles. As Soul parked the motorcycle next to the sidewalk Kid slipped off and stretched, already feeling the heat and relentless sun already warming his skin and hair. For once, he was glad that Liz had insisted upon him having at least one pair of shorts. They were white, blindly so with the sunlight hitting them, and he'd tucked his black t-shirt into them, the white bracelets (one on each wrist) swinging from his thin wrists as he idly fiddled with the hem of his shorts.

"Hey, it's not cool to just stand there with weather like this." Soul grinned and threw an arm over the young reaper's shoulders, ignoring his quiet protests about it not being balanced. After a moment, he dropped his arm to take hold of Kid's hand, secretly enjoying the feel of smooth, cool skin against his palm, of the pretty good eyes that looked at him with such adoration...which made him feel somewhat guilty. Ok, a _lot_ guilty.

He knew about the god child's frequent nightmares, and he wanted to help, really honestly, he did, but how does one help a god with his mental issues?

"Hey, Earth to Soul." Kid had pulled them both against the wall of some random shop, frowning in concern at the scythe. It wasn't like his boyfriend to just ignore him like that, not unless he had something important on his mind.

"Are you alright?" Soul nodded, squeezing the young reaper's hand to hopefully reassure him.

"'M fine, just thinking about how cute you look." Kid wrinkled his nose up, like how he always did when he blushed, and shook his head at the white haired boy. Deciding to just ignore Soul's lapse of attention, he pointed across the street, to a tiny little cafe wedged between a clothing shop (one that Kid knew well), and a small arts shop.

"Let's grab an early lunch before we start walking around. I can pay for both of us." They started across the street, both knowing that there was no risk of getting hit by a vehicle; no one really drove on this road, it was always filled with too many people. The cafe was unsurprisingly empty, besides a few of the employees from the shops next to the place, so they had their pick of any of the window seats.

A waitress came up, eyeing Kid before sweetly handing them a menu and asking what they wanted to drink. Kid waved her off, stating only water for either of them.

"That's _not_ cool. She really shouldn't look at you like that Kid." Soul glared after the waitress, feeling a familiar bubble of anger at the thought of _anyone_ flirting with _his_ reaper. Said reaper only shook his head, straightening the napkins on the table.

"Like I'd care who flirts with me? I already have you. Paying attention to other people isn't my top priority any more." It really didn't matter to him if some ditzy waitress in a short skirt tried to hit on him - he had Soul, who was far better than any one else.

"Heh, that's good. Hey, Kid...what are your nightmares about?" Soul blinked at the wide eyed, deer-caught-in-headlights look that immediately went over the god child's face. His surprise melted into concern when Kid looked down, golden eyes becoming sad and almost pained.

"I-I...I don't really know. It'd usually just images and sounds, but it scares me...I hear laughing most of the time, and something like glass breaking...my Father comes up a lot. And someone else but...I have no idea who they are...it feels like they want to kill me, whoever it is."

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Somewhere beneath the DWMA...a single soul fluctuated, as if knowing someone was effected by it, talking about it's presence. A single thought came from it, accompanied by silent amusement and endless patience.

 _I'm alive._

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 **Next Chapter begins with Soul bringing Kid home late and then transitions over to Lord Death thinking about his first relationship, and his current one with Spirit. Until then darlings~. Don't forget to leave a review and let me know what you think!**


	5. Not the Same

**We're at the fifth chapter of this thing! What a milestone! And** ** _please_** **leave some feedback for me to look at. I need to know how people like this and how my writing is.**

 **0000**

The sun had gone down hours ago when the sound of an engine announced Death the Kid and Soul's return. Kid grimaced at the disturbance they caused, and gingerly slid off the bike, kicking his flip flops off and picking them up. Soul got off as well, trying to stay as quiet as his boyfriend naturally was. The scythe frowned at the other boy's amused smirk, but it quickly turned into a fond smile; Kid had gotten cold on the way back to the motorcycle and Soul had given him his jacket, which was adorably too big, and the reaper still hadn't taken it off.

"What are you staring at?" The younger reaper stepped past the white haired boy, golden eyes never straying from red ones. Soul shook his head free of his wild thoughts and grinned at the god child, easily falling into place beside him, reaching out to stop the reaper from entering the manor.

"Kid..." He turned, raising an eyebrow at the scythe in question. After a moment, he knelt down to place his shoes next to the doors, before turning back to look up at the other boy. Kid waited, patient, wondering what his boyfriend had to say.

"Keep my jacket, ok? It looks better on you anyway." Soul took a step back, half turning to go down the stairs and towards his motorcycle, before slender hands grabbing his bigger, rougher hands stopped him in his tracks. Still standing at the top of the stairs, Kid was almost at eye level with the weapon, and he bit his lip nervously. A part of him wanted to ask him to stay with him, to keep his nightmares at bay, and another knew that was only wishful thinking; Soul would never agree to stay, it would be uncool so early in their relationship.

"Hey, don't worry, I'll be back in the morning if I can get away."

"...alright. I'll be waiting. And please, _don't_ throw rocks at my window again, I can't keep coming up with excuses to tell Father." Soul grinned leaning down as Kid leaned up on his toes for a quick, chaste kiss before Soul was hopping down the steps and going towards his bike. He turned to see Kid still standing there, slim finger pressed to his lips, a gesture of silence; he'd just heard someone walking. Soul nodded and grabbed the handlebars of the bike to roll it out through the black gates and out onto the road. Just before he left Kid's sight, he waved and blew a kiss towards the young reaper.

Kid blushed, letting a content sigh to escape before he clapped his hands and nearly jumped in place from the giddiness and the longer warmth from the other boy's kiss.

" _Should've asked him to stay for breakfast_!" Kid shrieked, turning with a start to see his Father leaning out of the window of his study, grinning wide enough so that he could see the white of his Father's teeth. He huffed and unlocked the front door, making sure to close it quietly. Staying up late was practically routine for him and his Father, but he could tell that Liz and Patty had already retired to their rooms. He peered into the study, frowning.

"Have you eaten?"

"Spirit already came by and yelled at me. I think he's still in the kitchen, said he had some work to do." Kid nodded, knowing that was all that he'd get out of the older god, and left towards his room; he and Soul had eaten earlier, and he didn't feel like having a conversation with his Father's personal weapon.

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Lord Death leaned back in his chair, listening to the old wood creak in protest. Listening to his son walk past the study, he couldn't help but hope that Soul wouldn't hurt him. It wasn't a secret that the scythe was driven by more primal things, and he'd seen how the boy reacted to a certain cat (not that he'd been stalking his son's boyfriend or anything...).

And Soul reminded him of Balathor. That necessarily wasn't a bad thing, but he couldn't help but see a little bit of the harshness that his old friend held in Soul. That sort of nature _never_ worked well with the nature of a death god. He knew that first hand, how someone like that could cause such grief and pain with just a few careless words...

 _"Come on Angel!" A tall, tanned boy turned to yell back at his much shorter friend, straw colored hair pulled back into a messy, loose ponytail to keep it out of his grinning face. A young Death caught up with him, drawing in deep breaths and smoothing his thick black hair back into its natural place. He'd never been this far from the castle, and he looked around with wide, curious eyes._

 _"Balathor, please tell me where we're going. F-Father doesn't like it when I go too far from home..." He trailed off, taking the hand his friend offered to him with only a worried frown. The warrior-in-training led the young reaper through the trees and out into a meadow of tall grass and colorful wildflowers, towards an old, moss covered well. Angel pulled back, seeing the skull carvings along the bottom of the decrepit well and the unfamiliar glyphs written between the carvings._

 _"I don't think this is a good idea. That doesn't look very safe." He spoke softly, and his blond friend didn't seem to hear him; he simply let go of the shorter boy's hand to lean over the crumbling wall of the well to look down into its dark depths_

 _"Some boys were talking about how there's a monster down there. Can you see anything? Angel?" He turned to find the black haired boy frowning and taking a step away from the well. Balathor's sharp violet gaze softened, and shoved his hands into his pockets before confidently walking back to his friend's side._

 _"This isn't really what I wanted to show you, just thought it be a nice stop. It's over here, come on."_

 _"I don't Bal, what if my Father finds out?"_

 _"Dont you trust me?" Angel blinked in surprise, looked down at his black shoes, and then looked up with determination in his reddish gold eyes._

 _"Of course I do. Which way?" Balathor grinned and once again led the way to an enormous weeping willow, where a tiny little cabin was wedged up against the thick trunk. The wood had been freshly painted a soft lavender color, with golden leaves painted along the roof and the door. Angel sucked in a breath, smelling the stabbing scent of fresh paint and sawed wood. Had his friend built this?_

 _"You said once you wanted a place to call your own, but I know you. You'd get lonely far too fast so...why not have a place we can call ours?" The young reaper grinned and leapt up to hug his friend, who chuckled and spun them around before hoisting the short boy up into his arms to set him down on the sturdy porch._

 _"You did this for me? All of this?"_

 _"Of course. I would die for you."_

Lord Death was startled out of his memory when hand raked through his hair, and he turned his gaze upwards to stare at Spirit. The redhead smiled down at him, and it struck the god how different his lover was next to his childhood crush...

That was a good thing. He let himself be pulled out of his chair and into Spirit's arms, enjoying the warmth of the death scythe.

"You still haven't eaten anything. Come on, I'll make you some tea." Yeah, it was very good that Spirit wasn't like Balathor.


	6. Fearless or Fearful?

**Oh look at this another chapter after how long? I wish it was longer than it is, I've come to a bit of a block on this story. Anyways...feedback is appreciated!**

 **I don't own anything.**

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Lord Death would've liked to say that he wasn't afraid of anything, but looking down at the sleeping form of his Death Scythe - laying peacefully in his bed, hair a mess and hands clutching at the white sheets - had him doubting his abilities, his powers, and fearing the day the redhead would permanently leave this world.

The reaper tucked a lock of red hair behind an ear, marveling at how relaxed Spirit looked while asleep, all the stress and tension of the bday gone in the face of sleep. He sighed, pulling the blankets more securely around the man before stepping into the bathroom. He closed the door behind him, cutting off his view of his sleeping weapon. Turning on the shower and leaning against the counter to wait for the warm water, Death traced over the scars on his wrists.

He looked down at the scars, remembering how the cold bite of steel felt sliding through his skin. It had been a few decades since he'd last felt so weak, but the memory still came back as clear and sharp as when the event had taken place. The remembered sensation was tempting, like an old lover, and he was glad he'd tossed all of the sharp objects in the bathroom into the trash. Death shook off the grip of the bloody memory, sticking his hand underneath the water to check the warmth.

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Spirit woke slowly, curling into the warmth of the white comforter. He was loath to get up, but it was a school day and he'd have to accompany Lord Death as his personal weapon. Still...if he skipped a shower and rushed breakfast one could say he had plenty of time to just lay there and doze off. The redhead buried his face into the lavender scented pillows, breathing in the wonderful fragrance.

"Please don't suffocate on the bed." Spirit jerked up to blink in surprise at the old reaper, blushing upon seeing the god's wet hair (which was starting to curl in the most adorable manner) and current shirtless status. Said shirtless god only chuckled at the redhead and turned to pull a black dress shirt from his dresser, along with a pair of thin socks.

"I was going to head over to the DWMA early to get some paperwork done, you can come in later if you like." Death _sounded_ cheerful, but the scythe had learned in the last few years of working with the guy taught him that he was almost never actually cheerful. He had the entire world on his shoulders and then some. The man was always tired and in a constant state of worry.

"Actually, why don't we slow down a bit? There's a new place not far from the school and it has pretty good breakfast...what do you say? My treat." The scythe smiled hopefully, already reach for his discarded shirt and jacket. Death frowned, looking like he was about to refuse, but then his shoulders slumped and he gave a genuine smile.

"Alright. But only just this once - I can't afford to always be late to work Spirit."

"Yeah yeah, now come over here so I can button your shirt, you keep doing it wrong."


End file.
